Ten Months
by LeChimera
Summary: Worlds come together during a drunken night, and the consequences could prove fatal for all involved. M-preg / HarryxDraco
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with Harry Potter. J. K. Rowling is the genius behind this magical world we all love so much!  
>Rating: I'm going to keep it M for later chapters.<p>

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><p><strong>Ten Months - Chapter One<strong>

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><p>As soon as his feet touched solid ground, he was running. His broom was left abandoned on the pitch, tossed aside in his haste. There was only one thing on his mind in that moment. He had to get to a restroom, now!<p>

The door to the locker rooms was still swinging shut when he threw open the door to one of the three stalls in their small loo. He didn't bother with the latch, didn't have the time. As soon as the toilet was in sight, he was crouching and expelling everything that he had eaten that day. The sound of his retching was sickening to his ears, and it brought about a whole new round of expulsion as he hunched forward with a whimpered sound.

He stayed like that for long minutes, heaving and hacking out everything inside of his stomach until nothing but acid was working its way up and out of his body, burning his throat raw. Coughing hoarsely, he waited to be sure it was over before shakily rising to his feet and existing the unlatched stall.

No one had followed him from the pitch. No one had come to see why he'd abandoned practice so suddenly or to check and make sure he was okay. Part of him was thankful for that. He wasn't fond of the idea of someone discovering him puking his lungs out. After what had happened only weeks before, he was still out of favor with pretty much every living witch and wizard and most magical creatures. He wouldn't give them anything else to use against him.

Smirking at his own reflection, he found the irony in his own thoughts. He had never been in favor with the wizarding community, not since he was young and his father still had influence. At this moment, he was just more disliked than before, but other than that, his life was exactly as it had always been.

Even joining the Chudley Cannons hadn't improved his standings, and it was just his rotten luck that-

"Oi! Malfoy, what the hell are you thinking? We play the Wasps in two weeks," seethed a red face Ronald Weasley, hands clenched tightly at his sides as he shoved his way into the restroom.

Biting his tongue, he gave his own relfection an exasperated look. Oh, there were so many things he wanted to say in that one moment. He had over a dozen stingy, rude, and hurtful remarks lined up in a neat, little row. They were just waiting for his permission to jump out of his mouth and set the stupid Gryffindor idiot on fire, but he also knew that one more altercation, no matter whose fault, and he was off of the team.

So, gripping the edges of the sink that he'd just used to wash himself clean of his previous venture, he drew in a stablizing breath before saying, "Yes, Weasley." It almost hurt to use the name correctly, so inside of his head, he took up a mantra of _Weasel! Weasel! Red-headed, shit eating Weasel!_It calmed his nerves enough for him to continue. "I am quite aware of the upcoming match, but my stomach seemed to feel like rebeling against me this morning. I give you my word that I have no intention of skirting practice to lounge about in some dirty loo."

A scoffing sound answered his words, causing him to shift his eyes away from his own face and to the man standing to his left. The team's Keeper wore a sour and disbelieving look as he watched Draco. It was probably also to Draco's disadvantage that Ron was the team's captain and being friends with the Boy-Who-Lived gave him great sway with the team manager and owner. While Draco's recent stunts had gotten him nearly shunned from London herself, so he forced himself to remain calm and silent as he waited for whatever accusation was going to be given this time.

"Look, Malfoy, I'm no happier with you than anyone else is right now. To tell you the truth, the owner wants you benched until everything really blows over." Ron's face twisted and contorted between furious and something that could almost be sympathetic, but Draco knew the sympathy wasn't for him. The Weasley cared more for this team than most everything else. "But you're the best Seeker we have right now, and if we are going to have a chance at winning this season, we'll need you." Wow, that seemed to hurt Ron as much as saying his name had hurt Draco. "So, stop brooding over this while you're here, and do your job like the rest of us." Oh, he just had to end it there.

"I am not _brooding_!" Draco snarled, turning around to face Ron. "And I always do my fucking job! Name one time, _one bloody time_, that I did not do as I was supposed to when it came to being this team's Seeker?"

His anger only helped to fuel Ron's if the darkening of his face and eyes was any indication. "You want me to name one time you screwed this team over?" Ron snarled back, taking a step closer to the angry Malfoy currently glaring venomously at him. A sharp nod from the blond had him saying, "Okay! How about sleeping with my best friend who happens to be married to my little sister? Don't you think that caused a little team issue?"

Draco nearly growled at those words, hating the fact that everyone seemed to be blaming him for tainting the innocent hero. It hadn't been anyone's fault. The team had thrown a party, in which Harry and his wife had attended to support Ron, and drinks had been served and consumed in record amounts. What followed had been an unplanned mistake, and of course, being the Gryffindor that he was, Harry instantly ran to his friends whining about his lapse of judgement. All fingers had quickly pointed to the same culprit. Draco Malfoy, the former Death Eater and son to a man in Azkaban. He always seemed to make the perfect target.

"I won't apologize for that," he seethed quietly, lowering his head like a coiled snake ready to spring. "I barely even remember anything from that night, and I promise you that if I hadn't been drunk, I never would have touched that attention-seeking whore you call a friend."

By this point, Ron was doing a good impression of the red color of Gryffindor as he stood frozen, rooted to the spot with wide, murderous eyes. The look of pure hatred was normal to see directed at him, but this was harder, sharper than any of the others. It actually had Draco judging the gap between Weasley and the door. If he was quick and cast the right curses, he might just make it out before Ron managed to get his hands around his throat. He would lose his job, but he might just keep his life.

"Is that really what you think of Harry?" Ron said finally, still giving Draco the same look.

Watching the other man cautiously, Draco considered his options. He could lie, go with the Weasley's idiotic idea of brooding over the hero. Or, he could tell the truth, which was exactly what he'd already said. In the end, he refused to back down.

"Yes, it is."

The look finally left Ron's face as he glanced to his right, seeming to see something that wasn't there. "Whatever. Think whatever you want to. It doesn't matter," he said softly, shaking his head in an almost sad way.

"Thank you for your permission," Draco bit out, not wanting to pay the new look any more attention, but as he took a step with the intention of walking out of the restroom and away from the obviously demented man, his world decided to lurch and twirl in every possible direction. His stomach seemed to want to tag along, which had only one result.

He didn't make it back into the stall quick enough. He coughed up a ridiculous amount of bile onto the tiled floor of the restroom, between himself and Weasley before racing / stumbling blindly to a toilet to complete the job.

"The hell..! D'you just try and puke on me?" Ron screamed, hurriedly backing away from the hacking Malfoy and avoiding the first wave of nausea that now coated the floor.

As he heard the continued sounds of both wet and dry gagging, he carefully stepped around the spreading puddle, holding his breath and wishing for death, and stood just outside Draco's stall. He watched the jerking motions of the blond's shoulders for a few minutes before sighing and walking over to him.

"You weren't lying, huh?" Ron said in annoyance, looking at the wall before crouching down beside Malfoy and reaching to pull his hair away from his face.

Draco flinched away from the contact, turning a hateful glare on the Weasley. "One person to a stall, Weasley," he said, lacking any infliction as he doubled over the porcelain once more.

"Yeah, yeah. Just shut up," was muttered in answer. This was easier when Hermione was sick like this. She was practical and polished even when emptying her stomach contents into a bowl. Of course, she had only been like this before Rose was born, and she'd taken prenatal, nausea potions that helped curb the impulse. Thinking back to Hermione's pregnancy brought a sick feeling to his own stomach.

"Hey, Malfoy, how long have you been sick?" he ventured carefully, already counting and adding the days in his head.

Coughing hoarsely again, Draco glared at the back of the toilet before answering. "Not that it's any of your bussiness, Weasley, but for about two weeks. It comes and goes. Maybe someone's poisoning me," he said, smiling at the notion. No one could poison him. Having had a potion's master for a godfather had assured him of that much. He could detect the smell, flavor, color, or even texture of any potion before it could do him harm.

Six weeks had passed since the incident at the party. Malfoy had been randomly ill for two weeks. It was a tight fit, but it was enough to make Ron want to ask to share Malfoy's toilet.

"Maybe we should get the team doctor to look at you. Just to be safe," he said weakly, hoping that someone was actually poisoning Malfoy. That would solve so many problems.

However, as the medi-witch that was under employment by the team repeated the same spell twice, with a result that Ron remembered from that first doctor visit with Hermione, he had to grip the counter at his back to keep from falling to the floor. This couldn't be happening.

"Well, what's wrong with me?" Draco asked impatiently, looking from the curious face of the witch to the stricken look on Weasley. Well, judging by Ron's reaction, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to die. He wouldn't look so upset otherwise.

"Mr. Malfoy, I suggest that you put in for a ten month's leave. You are not to be on a broom within that period, no apparating, and only short distant floo travel," the witch said calmly, jotting something down in his file.

"Ten months? What's wrong with me?" he demanded for a second time, ignoring the pained whimper that issued from the now crouching Weasley. If he glanced over, he would see Ron gripping his hair tightly in each hand while shaking his head and mouthing _no_over and over.

"You'll need to make regular appointments with your usual medi-wizard," she continued, seeming to ignore them both as she continued writing. "And under the Right's of Knowledge Act in 1904, you will have to notify the other party."

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Draco asked for the third time, leaning away from the bench he'd been asked to sit on. The Right's of Knowledge act had to do with some witch that refused to tell the father of her child that he even had a child. The pureblood family of the man's was so outraged to find out later that there'd been an heir that they hadn't been allowed to properly raise, that they took it to the highest courts which had resulted in the law.

What did that have to do with him? Was there an addition to the law that he hadn't known about? Had he caught something from Harry that he would now have to tell any other lovers, not that he'd had any since, about? If that was the case, that hero was dead!

"You're pregnant, Mr. Malfoy. Congratulations," the woman's tone never changed as she shut his file and looked right at him.

For the third time that day, his world decided to shift out from under his feet, but this nausea was different. It was terrifying.

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><p>AN : A new fic for the new year! The plot is still under-work, but I like it so far. I hope you will, too. Well, let me know.

Reviews = a happy chimera


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer : I own nothing when it comes to Harry Potter. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling.  
>Rating : M for tiny lemon in this chapter, nothing graphic yet.<p>

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><p><strong>Ten Months - Chapter 2<strong>

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><p>She was angry. He knew she was, and he couldn't blame her for it. Hadn't he promised to be love, honor, and cherish her until the day one of them died? Hadn't he given his word to be faithful to her? Yes, but the main question that they both seemed to be curious about was had he meant it?<p>

At the time, when he'd seen her dressed in a flowing, white dress, he hadn't had any doubts. He'd wanted to be married to Ginny, to have a life with her, and for the first two years, things were great. He loved waking up with her in his arms, snuggled into his chest. He'd laughed at her sad attempts of recreating her mother's amazing meals. They had travelled together. They'd spent a month in Romania, visiting Charlie, and just a few months later, they had gone to a remote, wizarding island. They'd had fun, enjoyed each other's company, but those days seemed to fade after that, when the real world finally caught up to them.

Everyone, even Ginny, has expected him to take up a job in the ministry, perhaps an Auror or just a political figure, but there were too many memories there. Whenever he went to the Ministry, he couldn't help but remember Sirius and think about Voldemort. Yes, they would have allowed him to work mostly from home as an Auror, but that just brought up memories of Tonks and Lupin. She had been an Auror, a crafty and quick-minded one with the purest joy for life and an unconditional love for her family. Still, that had not saved her. She would never hold Teddy again. She had missed out on so many things. He was already four years old, wobbling around and picking up new words everyday. Tonks never got to see that, and Harry wanted to.

Maybe he was being selfish by not taking up some new fight, but that was what he wanted. He didn't want the danger or uncertainty. He wanted to watch his godchild grow older. He and Andromeda were already talking about the day when she would no longer be able to care for Teddy and Harry would have to step in.

Curling his fist around the letter in his hand, he leaned back into the sofa at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He couldn't even see himself and Ginny caring for Teddy together. He could no longer envision that kind of life with her. He loved her, always would, but it seemed different. She claimed it was because of his infidelity, which hadn't helped, but it had started before that.

When he'd made the decision to not become an Auror or anything else dealing with the Ministry, she had acted upset and disappointed. When he'd declined Ron's offer to join the Cannons, she had been bewildered and confused, practically begging him at one point to take the offer. Still, he'd said no. She'd gone cold then, watching him from a distance as if she was trying to understand him.

But when he'd finally made the announcement of what he intended to do, she had been livid. She had been holding out hope that he would either change his mind or perhaps teach at Hogwarts. They were still going through Defense Against the Dark Arts' teachers, and she had said that maybe he could break that chain. He didn't want to even try. Instead, he'd called on his partnership in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and begun working alongside George. After Fred's death, he needed the help anyway, and Harry enjoyed working with him. After a few weeks, George was cracking vulgar and often painful jokes again, and everyone seemed thankful for the change in him. Well, almost everyone.

Tossing the latest letter into the fireplace infront of him, Harry just shook his head. He knew that Ginny had loved seeing the change in George, the lighter more fun side of him returning, but she had still seemed angry and almost bitter. She wanted him to do something else.

"Harry, I really am grateful for you helping out my brother," she'd told him once after they'd returned home from a Weasley family dinner. "But don't you think it's time to_ really _find a career? You could do something so much better!"

It had continued on into an argument that had lasted nearly two weeks. It would have lasted longer, but they'd found something else to bicker about after eleven days. It was something to do with his keeping of Grimmauld Place and not selling it, which looking back now had been a good idea on his part. Otherwise, he would be sleeping at Ron and Hermione's right now, and he was trying to keep them out of his marital problems, as much as it was a failing effort.

Watching the last corner of the letter vanish into the fire, Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch further, looking up at his ceiling. His marriage was a bust. He knew this, had known for a long time. And when Ron had invited him and Ginny to the party celebrating one of the other player's newest record, he had gone angry and hurt.

They had actually made up, were doing pretty good for the week leading up to the party, but as they were getting dressed, she had started again. She told him that this was a great opportunity to talk to the team owners and see about getting a position. She had even joked that if they were lucky enough, maybe they would throw Malfoy off of the team. Then, he could work with one of her brothers without that Death Eater bastard hanging around them.

He hadn't bothered telling her that he already worked with one of her brothers because he knew that to her, he was only being charitable with George. However, he had made amends with Draco after the war. He'd spoken up at both his and mother's trials, saving them from time in Azkaban. After all, they had saved his life, and maybe his saving Draco had evened out the scale a bit, but to him, he still owed them. So, he had defended his former enemy against his wife. It had not been his best choice, and by the time they were leaving, both were beyond furious.

She had managed to bring every decision he'd made since the war into question within less than twenty minutes, and he had been dumb enough to ask if she might have been happier with Dean instead of him. She had told him that she would have been happier with Dean because he had a good job in the Ministry's Regulation of Law Department. She told him, that unlike Harry, Dean didn't play with children's toys all day long.

"I still love her, though," he thought aloud, telling the ceiling and hoping that it would fix everything for him.

He still loved the way she smiled, as rare as it had become. He loved the sound of her laughter, as forced as it had become. He loved the perfect life that they pretended to have when people asked them, even though it had never been real.

"But," he choked out a second later, staring blindly up now as he seemed to look inside of himself. "I don't regret it. I can't stop thinking about that night, about him." His voice was almost too loud to his ears, and it made him give a paranoid look around, just to be sure no one had heard.

He already knew that Ron suspected that he wasn't as sorry as he'd proclaimed to be. Ron seemed to be more empathetic these days, which was really not a good thing right now. It was because of Ron's knowing look that he'd really been avoiding his best friends for the last week or so. He actually hadn't left the house in that long, too. George stopped by every other night for a drink and to talk pranks, but other than that, he was alone.

But that night, he hadn't been alone.

Ginny had done the usual round of graceful greetings by his side before storming away from him in a whirl of red hair. It hadn't bothered him. He had actually been thankful for her departure. It eased the tension in his muscles and allowed him time to think.

Without her ominous presence, he had enjoyed a light-hearted conversation with Ron and one of the team Chasers, shared a quick and clumsy dance with Hermione, and had even managed not to break any of her toes before Ron stepped in to rescue her. He had been enjoying himself, and when he'd asked Ron's teammate where he could put his jacket now that he was starting to sweat, he'd smiled and thanked him before heading up the stairs to the room designated for coats and purses and other things that seemed to get in the way at parties.

He hadn't expected to find a far from lucid Draco Malfoy reclining on the bed of the guestroom.

He had stood in the door for a long, long time watching Malfoy fumble angrily with his tie before he was noticed. Grey eyes had squinted at him, bright and watery as they stared back. A moment of clarity seemed to penetrate the haze that engulfed Malfoy when he recognized Harry. His eyes had widened, and his face had relaxed. It had given him such a young and vulnerable look with those too-big, too-bright, too-sad eyes of his.

"Harry," he choked out almost desperately, reaching a hand out and nearly toppling off of the bed for his efforts.

With his coat landing near the door, Harry was at the bed an instant later, catching Malfoy before he was on the floor. Shaking hands clutched at his arms as Harry eased him back up and onto the mattress.

"Damn, Malfoy," he breathed, taking a step back to look at the inebriated man. To his surprise, the grey eyes seemed to focus on him without any problems, but he still swayed dangerously whenever Harry removed his hands. "How much did you drink?"

Malfoy just laughed and shook his head. It surprised Harry how rich and full the sound was. It seemed to vibrate through his own body, but he just decided that it was that way because he was still touching Malfoy, holding him upright.

"Malfoy, are you okay? Do you want me to get someone?" he asked, not sure what else he could do for him.

"Who?" Malfoy said with a light chuckle, shaking his head again. "Dad's in Azkaban. Mom's in France. I have no friends. I'm pretty well hated, so who could you possibly get that would even _want_ to help me?"

In all honesty, he didn't know of anyone. Well, surely he could floo to France quickly enough and get his mother for him. That was an option, right?

Unfortunately, his silence seemed to have a negative effect on Malfoy. He sniffled dramatically, even though he didn't cry, not yet at least. "You can't think of anyone; can you?" he demanded in a strangled voice. "You have hundreds if not thousands who love you, but I have no one." Again, he laughed, but this time, it was hollow and broken. Harry found that he hated that sound.

"You're wrong, Malfoy. You have your mother still, and what about Pansy and-"

"Mother left me here by myself and fled to France! And Pansy and the others don't want my bad graces to infect their own dealings," he interrupted Harry. It wasn't true, though. He had begged his mother to move, to find a more peaceful place. And maybe Greg and Theo ignored him these days, but Pansy came to every one of his games, usually with her latest boy-toy. Blaise practically invaded his life every other week for a night on the town.

He just couldn't remember that at that moment. All he could remember were the whispers when he'd arrived here, and everytime he tried to join a conversation, everyone else would go silent and look awkward. That was the only thing on his mind when the dam finally broke, and he started crying silently, still smiling lazily at Potter.

"No, no! Don't do that! Please, Malfoy. It's okay. It's going to be okay," Harry said in one breath when he noticed the tears streaming slowly down Malfoy's cheeks, painting a pale trail against his flushed cheeks. "You.. You-You have me!"

Draco seemed startled by the shout. It was enough to wipe away that haunted smile and replace it with an expression of nothing but wistful hope. "Do you mean that?" he asked softly, lifting a hand to cup Harry's cheek.

It was all so cliche, but Harry still couldn't look away from those grey eyes, which happened to be silver when he looked closely, and he didn't even flinch from the touch to his face. All he could do was nod carefully, not wanting to dislodge the gentle fingers currently stroking his cheek.

He still didn't know who started it or how it went in that direction, but the next thing he fully recalled was having Malfoy laid back against the cover, his trousers and pants tossed somewhere on the floor along with Harry's. His mouth was pressing eagerly against Malfoy's full, bow-shaped lips, seeking entrance, which Malfoy granted with a whimpered moan. As soon as he tasted the firewhiskey on Draco's breath, he imagined that he was drunk, too. The heat searing into his skin was making him dizzy, and the hands bunching his shirt up to roam along his back and chest were making his mind foggy.

And then he pressed down and felt the heated, hardened flesh of a man against his own for the first time. The friction between their bodies was nearly too much, and he had to rip his mouth from Malfoy's to gasp in air or less he was sure to drown. Malfoy, however, was more ingenius when drunk than Harry could ever remember him being sober. He heard a muttered spell, causing him to jump and reach reflexively for his wand hidden in his shirt-sleeve. Malfoy just shook his head with a small smile and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck.

"If I have you, I want you to have me. All of me," he whispered before nibbling on Harry's ear, and he understood what the spell had been.

Malfoy's legs parted for him, spreading out on either side of his hips before wrapping along his back, effectively trapping him against Malfoy's body. He didn't need any further prompting than that. Slowly, carefully, he pushed into the tight, moist heat that was all Malfoy.

He would never forget the noises that peppered the air after he started moving. Malfoy mewled and groaned and whimpered and yelped and begged in breathy, pleading moans that only urged Harry harder, faster, there, and yes!

"Malfoy.." he'd whimpered as he watched the blond arch his back away from the mattress and into his own body, sealing them together perfectly. His hands tightened steadily against Harry's shoulders, digging painfully through his clothing and into the skin, not that he cared at that moment.

Malfoy shook his head hard against the sheets before forcing his eyes open and looking up at Harry, smiling softly as he did. "Draco," he corrected before throwing his head back with another whimpered groan as he found his release.

"Draco," Harry acknowledged, thrusting into the waiting heat only a few more times before finding his own climax. It was brilliant and nerve-shattering as he emptied everything into Draco's willing body.

They stayed like that for awhile. Draco's legs and arms fell back to the bed while Harry hovered over him, holding himself up on trembling arms as he caught his breath and came down from his high. Mumbling below him drew his attention, though, and he realized with a jolt that Draco was fast asleep.

"Harry.." was said tiredly before he shifted his body, dislodging Harry's softening member with a wet sound, and seemed to curl into a ball, much like a cat.

That was when it struck him. Looking down at the sleeping man, he didn't think immediately of his betrayal to Ginny. Insead, he could only think of that fact that he'd just taken advantage of Draco.

He'd cleaned himself and Draco and dressed the latter back into his clothes after a brief moment of kicking at Harry's struggling hands. Before he left, he couldn't fight the impulse to place a simple kiss against Draco's temple and be thankful that no one had walked by the open door while they'd been together. It would be less than an hour later that he would confess to Ginny what had happened out of guilt. She would make a scene only minutes later, screaming about what had happened between her husband and that bastard Death Eater. Luckily, no one knew where to find Draco, so he would be spared from the entire fiasco until the following day.

He still felt bad for everything. He felt bad for hurting Ginny so much. She really seemed to think that they had still had a chance to mend things properly. She still thought so, but most of all, he was sorry for what Malfoy was having to endure because of him. The papers were having a field day with the man who had soiled their savior. No one would listen to him when he tried to tell them that it wasn't Malfoy's fault, that he was actually innocent in the entire thing.

Smiling despite himself, he corrected himself. "Draco." He could still call him that now, right?

He was pulled from his thoughts, though, when someone began beating on his door.

Grabbing his wand from the table beside the sofa, he walked over to the door, careful to keep his steps silent as he grew near. With his hand on the knob, he threw the door open and drew his wand, ready to defend of deflect whoever it was.

"Woah, mate! Easy there!" Ron exclaimed, holding his arms up to show he wasn't armed.

"Ron? Sorry, just.." Harry said, shrugging as he stepped aside for Ron to come in. "What are you doing? It's almost midnight," he commented turning to head for his kitchen. A hand on his shoulder haulted him, though.

"Harry, I have to ask you something, and you have to be honest," Ron said quickly, his eyes darting in every direction as he immitated Harry's earlier paranoia about being heard.

"Okay," Harry answered carefully, trying to figure out what could have Ron so jumpy. The only time he'd behaved like this before was when Hermione had been on a health kick, and he needed somewhere to eat a batch of chocolate frogs without being discovered.

"Do you like Malfoy? And don't deny it right away!" Ron said, watching Harry's eyes shutter as he made to answer. "Think about it and be honest. I know you loved Ginny, but you two haven't been happy for years now. But you have always been obsessed with Malfoy. Hell, when he joined the team you asked me about him almost daily, and after what happened... Look, Harry, I won't be mad. Just answer."

"Well, I.."

"I'm serious, Harry. You have to be honest. Well, actually, it's probably too late now, but I still need to know. So whatever it is, just say it. Ginny? Or Draco? Fuck, don't even think about it! Just whichever name comes to your mind first! Whoever you think you like or love or whatever more, just say their name and.."

"Ron!" Harry yelled, trying to stop his friend's babbling.

"Me?" Ron asked, taking a step back from Harry with wide eyes. "Look, mate, I love you like a brother, but I'm not an option."

Smiling through the headache forming, Harry shook his head before saying, "Not you, Ron. I just wanted you to shut up for a second. Now, why don't you tell me why you're asking me all of this?"

"Oh, thank goodness!" Ron breathed with a smile. That would have been too messed up to deal with. "Well, I just noticed how you are about Malfoy, and he's at St. Mungo's right now-"

"He's at St. Mungo's?" Harry interrupted, losing all traces of humor. "What happened? Is he okay?"

Ron waved his hand absently. "It's nothing like that Harry, but I still need that answer before you can go see him."

All Harry heard was that he could go see him, so before Ron could say anything else, he apparated from his doorway and into the St. Mungo's lobby. As soon as the sensation of being pulled and tossed around subsided, he sprinted up to the receptionist and asked where he could find Mr. Draco Malfoy. She looked both surprised and giddy to see him. The woman didn't even go through the usual protocal of family only. She told him which examination room he was in, and he nodded his thanks before going in search of room 110.

It didn't take long for him to find it. After all, he still made regular visits to the hospital, courtesy of testing highly tempermental gags. He wasn't sure how he expected to find Draco this time as he threw open the door, but he hadn't expected to see him sitting calmly and seemingly unharmed on an examination bench.

"Dra-Malfoy, Ron said you were here, so.. Are you okay?" he asked dumbly, looking around for some sign of blood or sickness. All he saw was the usual pristine room that was like any other in the building.

"Leave it to a Weasel to not be patient," Draco remarked before motioning for Harry to step into the room.

He did so, and the sound of the door clicking shut seemed almost too loud to his ears. He made sure to keep some distance between himself and Draco as he moved to stand infront of him, gulping nervously.

"Harry, were you aware that wizards can get pregnant if they have the correct blood in their line?" Draco asked conversationally as he leaned forward to regard Harry with a solemn gaze.

"No," Harry answered dumbly, wondering why he would ask him that.

"Neither was I. They don't really have a name for the gene, but it seems to be most abundant in pureblood families. It allows a male to carry the child of another male, probably some old spell cast centuries ago to ensure the survival of the pureblooded families," he told Harry slowly, as if it was of no concern. "What do you think of that?"

Harry wasn't sure what to think of that, to be perfectly honest. He was still trying to figure out what Malfoy was doing in St. Mungo's. He seemed find, but then again, he was talking about men getting knocked up. Maybe he'd gotten hit with a bludger. The team had practice the other day, and waiting almost two days to get medical attention seemed like something Malfoy would do.

"You haven't figured it out, have you?" Draco sighed after giving Harry some time to answer. When all Draco got for his effort was a blank stare and a slow shake of his head, he decided that maybe being blunt would be the best approach with a Gryffindor. "Congratulations, Potter. I'm carrying your child."

* * *

><p>AN : Now, Harry knows, too! And poor, poor Ron. You are right. He will become their support later on, and I will not abandon this fic. It annoys me when people do that. Grr! Anywho! I intended to post this tomorrow or next week, but people have been alerting this story like crazy, which made me happy, so here!

Review = Quicker update + happy chimera  
>(I'm allowed to bribe you, right? Hehe.)<p> 


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